Green is Definitely Your Colour
by HellsingFanaticperson
Summary: AU After 3x13. Rumpelstiltskin's dagger has fallen into the wrong hands. Those hands just so happen to be green, and very, very Wicked.
1. Prologue

"But I'm a villain, and villains don't get happy endings."

Rumpelstiltskin was submerged in a sea of darkness. Sound, sight, smell, touch- every single sense was muffled with the weight of the void. His ears and mouth felt stuffed with cotton. His eyes were blind and numb. Even magic, which had always filled every inch of his impish appearance, lay deep within him, completely immobile.

Had he died?

The last thing Rumpel remembered was the warm press of his father's true form against his chest, the point of his own cursed blade against the tender flesh of his heart. The frozen form of Belle, Bae, and the rest of the town as they were forced to watch his sacrifice.

He should be dead; he'd planned to be, and his plans always came true. It had, he was sure, even though he had no clue where he was or whether or not he was even awake. There was a definitely an empty place in the back of his mind that told him time had passed in unconsciousness, similar to waking from a dream inside a dream.

Then, where was he now? He could not for the life of him remember how he had come to be in such an endless ocean of magic.

He struggled to remember, to feel, to picture the minds of his Baelfire and Belle, but even they were misted memories. When he tried, a thick haze veiled the colour of Belle's eyes, of Baelfire's smile.

At least he knew they were safe.

He had made sure of it; Pan was dead, just as much as he was, and if not dead, they were both timelessly trapped in purgatory with endless thoughts.

So much for his nasty habit of survival.

He felt something brush against his foot. The sensation felt painfully sensitive, pins and needles jabbing into his foot as feeling returned to his lifeless body. The needles grew into a fire that itched his skin and moved up his calf to his thigh; He wanted to ease the pain somehow, but even with as much concentration as he could muster, he could do nothing to abate it.

Suddenly, his ankle went numb. The painful sensitivity crept further up his body like a wave, to his neck even, but thankfully the pain was quickly erased with lack of feeling altogether. Pins crept up into his facial muscles, his ears and brain…

Then, motion; he was moving, rising, stretching. His ears popped with the roaring drainage of water. His mouth was open and he wanted to gasp for breath but his lungs were unresponsive.

His vision grew brighter by the second. He felt as if he was rising. His lungs felt as if they would burst, he had to breathe, he needed to-

And then he breached the surface, for one moment perfectly weightless.

His world shook, and five dreamlike words stirred the magic deep within him, rising to the surface like goose bumps, shrouding him in a breath of deep violet smoke.

"I summon thee, Dark One."


	2. Chapter 1: Awake

Rumpelstiltskin woke as if he'd been doused with ice water. His eyes flew open as he gasped, sucking in the cool night air as if he was still drowning in a sea of magic. Hands, his hands, rose to touch his face gingerly.

He was alive.

For a moment he stood, merely breathing. He could smell the pine in the trees and the crisp clean scent of snow. The distant calls of an owl searching for a mate echoed through the trees. His bare feet registered the cold stone beneath him.

A few pure flakes gathered in his hair, and one particularly daring flake went for his eyes. He blinked slowly, allowing his senses to adjust, scanning the foliage that lined the edge of the clearing where he'd awoken. Snow covered the ground in an equalizing white blanket, everywhere of course except for his shadow and the stone dais beneath him, which melted the flakes as if it was alive itself. The vault of the Dark One.

There wasn't a living soul in sight, except for him.

Good.

It was hardly a noble act to bring the darkest sorcerer in all the land back to life. Unless it was one of his Storybrooke "friends," he couldn't think of any person who would bring him back without a sinister intent. But, if it were one of the Charmings or Bae, they would be here waiting for him when he woke.

That was, however, disregarding the fact that the vault was a well-kept secret, and hardly something he ever expected anyone to figure out what its purpose was or how to use it.

He opened and closed his hands experimentally, watching the muscles slither beneath the green-gray skin. Everything seemed to be in working order, no fatigue or any such notable side effects. It was as if he had never been dead.

The feather-light touch of cloth at his elbow caught his attention. The short sleeved shirt and pants he wore to the pawn shop had been replaced by a dirty cloak and leggings. So he was definitely not in the Land Without Magic anymore. A pang of something dangerously close to sentiment twinged within his breast as he recognized them; they were his poor spinner's clothes.

Over the years he'd slain dragons and worn their hides, dressed himself with high regard and fine jewelry. Now he was returned to his original visage, what he had worn until it was run through with holes and covered in patches. He appeared exactly as he had when he thrust the dark dagger through Zoso's blackened heart all those centuries ago.

The dagger… Rumpelstiltskin patted his clothes, looking around. Where was it?

He used a tendril of his magic to scan the area for the pulsing power of the blade, as well as any unseen observers. He sensed a half-buried corpse just under the surface of the snow. The man wasn't long gone, and Rumpel easily connected the dots. The man was a fool, someone whose inexperience with magic hadn't warned him about the price of life, even for the Dark One: death.

Then he felt someone else... Yes, there was another on the peripherals of his magic, someone more powerful and vindictive and brimming with energy. A witch or sorcerer then.

However, the quick spell he'd cast hadn't found the cursed dagger. The recently deceased man didn't have it, and yet Rumpel still knew it existed. It _was_; somewhere. His curse definitely hadn't been broken by his temporary demise; he still felt the call, but for once in his life couldn't pinpoint the direction. At least the dagger being elsewhere meant it was potentially hidden or safe, otherwise he'd already be at the beck and call of some horrendously lucky farmhand.

As much as the thought of his dagger in the wrong hands distressed him, the magical presence continued to grow stronger, closer. Perhaps it would be better to see what this sorcerer wanted.

He also couldn't deny that his curious nature was intrigued by the immense power that emanated from the user, so he crossed his hand behind his back and waited.

It didn't take long.

If he hadn't been expecting someone, the witch might have been able to catch him by surprise. As it was, he hardly noticed the almost imperceptible puff of magic behind him.

"Rumpelstiltskin," She purred. He could practically hear the smirk on her face. "Fancy meeting you here."

Well, wasn't that interesting. His former student. Annoyance ran through him at her audacious behavior. The last time he'd seen her, he'd tried to tear her heart out. Her pretense of coincidence wasn't fooling anyone, least of all Rumpelstiltskin, the master manipulator, the maker of deals. He had felt her passion and malice in the wisps of magic that preceded her.

She was already on his nerves.

"Whatever could you be doing here, Zelena?" He added a touch of glee to his voice.

"I'm just stopping by to see how my friend was faring," She said, striding into view. Her conspicuous pointed hat only added to the general eccentricity of her red hair and green skin.

"You couldn't have sent a postcard?" He giggled and turned to face her. She wasn't someone he wanted his back to.

She circled Rumpelstiltskin until she was practically standing on top of the half-buried corpse and smiled. "Not you."

The man? Rumpelstiltskin furrowed his eyebrows. He'd felt her intent.

She nudged the corpse in the snow with her boot. "Oh dear, he doesn't look too good."

Her shoulders came up in a half-hearted shrug as she stepped over the dead man. "But at least he was successful."

"Skip the nonsense and tell me why you're here, Zelena." Rumpel snapped as he stepped forward, only a hand's breadth away from her smug face. He didn't like her cockiness. He rubbed two fingers against his temple in an attempt to abate the headache that was forming; her games were tiresome.

He growled, flexing a claw as if he imagined her heart clenched within his grip "Get to the point before I start back where we left off; and this time, I won't let you get away from me."

Zelena held a hand to her lips, and playfully made a small 'o' with her mouth. "Oh, scary. Are we done with the pleasantries already?"

Greeted with silence and a stony glare, she sighed, her eyes betraying her excitement. "Why, I'm here to bring you back of course." She laughed as if her explanation should have been common sense.

Her eyes flickered to the corpse beneath them. "Well, he was, but unfortunately someone forgot to warn him about the price to be paid for opening the Dark One's vault."

"You?" Rumpel said, tilting his head. "You brought me back...? Why? I thought you wanted me dead."

"No, no, no. Not dead." She whispered darkly.

She reached into the folds of her shawl, and he felt the dry whisper of a hand across his metallic soul as she drew his dagger. Pure loathing enveloped his features. He grit his teeth to keep from making a noise of disgust at the tingling sensation that gripped his nervous system.

It was as if his heart was being held in the palm of her hand, except it wasn't. Rather than his heart, it was his magic, all what flowed through every fibre of his being. Every inch of power that filled his thickened blood now had a puppet master.

Her eyes shined with sadistic glee. "We have unfinished business, you and I."

Agonizingly slow, she turned the blade over, her emerald eyes inspecting his name, inscribed onto the cruel steel since hundreds of years before she was even born. "And lucky for you, I've just had a position open up. I'm looking for a new servant."

Suddenly, he was glad he had no clue where Bae and Belle were.

"That," he said pointedly, "Belongs to me. Return it now, and I won't kill you." As venomously as his words came out, he was sure she didn't believe him for a second. Still, he smiled like he wasn't lying.

"No." She said flatly, her twisted smile telling him exactly how delicious she thought his anger was.

He tightened his fists. "Come now, dearie. Playtime is over."

She held the dagger out, pointing its wicked blade straight at him. He couldn't control the instinctive fear that washed over his features as he took a step back, hands raised passively. Shame filled him at his body's betrayal. He was better than this.

Her voice dropped into a deadly pitch, and she kept the dagger pointed right at his heart. "I think not. I'm just warming up, _Rumpel_. You and I are going to make a great team."

And whether he wanted to admit it or not, she was right. With her raw abilities and his endless knowledge combined, they could do anything they wanted. Anything she wanted at least; she had his dagger, and not for the first time in his life he regretted ever helping her.

He'd noticed her obsessive tendencies when he trained her, the way she had become so incredibly jealous of Regina, the way she would absorb every small detail he shared with her in chances of pleasing him, the way prisoners died too soon after he left the room and she would be waiting to spend time helping him clean; yet, he hadn't acted.

She had been too convenient. He had been too confident. He'd thought he could squash her as easily as a snail and be done whenever he wanted, but he had ignored the signs until her power had grown out of control.

He should have killed her when he had the chance, but he had been too dazzled by the shiny new toy who had been dropped right into his lap.

He bared his teeth at her, pointing one impish finger. "I will have my dagger back. You won't live forever, dearie, and when you finally perish it will be because my hands are around your throat. It's only a matter of time."

"Oh, no." She said, rolling her eyes, "I guess that means your Belle won't live forever either then. After all, she is only human."

Rumpel froze.

"Let's just say, I've got a gut feeling that I'm going to live a lot longer than she is. Like you said, _dearie_. It's only a matter of time."

His vision turned red. How _dare_ she threaten Belle?

"Don't you even say her name!" He roared. "I'll kill you!"

He reached for his dagger, fully intending to snatch it from her hands and stab her through the neck. With it, he would outmatch her.

Without it, he was no match.

"Stop right there."

A flick of her wrist, and the blade was at his throat. Power flowed from the blade -his power- filling him with adrenaline, yet rendering him useless. Against every murderous fiber of his being, his hands fell to his sides.

"Good boy," she said.

She leaned in, her lips almost brushing against his ear. Rumpel heart's felt like it was going to fly out of his chest; he could do nothing about the pure rage that rattled his insides with violent thoughts. The intensity of his magic whipped the trees in the grove with an unnatural wind. He was trapped in his own body.

"This is intoxicating." she whispered, "This power. You can't do anything can you?"

He struggled against his own magic which held him in place so tightly he could hardly breathe. The only thing he could do was clench his jaw, and he did, so much that it ached. She dragged the blade up and under his chin, studying his reaction.

"If you are going to kill me," he gritted, "just do it already."

When she laughed, her teeth glittered white against her olive green skin.

"Why would I bring you back just to kill you? No, you are much more useful to me alive."

The blade pressed against his flesh, and he found himself unable to lean away from its unforgiving steel.

"Now," she said, "We are going on a little holiday."

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but she moved the blade across his lips, silencing him.

"You are going to take me to the Dark Castle."

Despite the flare of indignation that rose within him at the thought of this power-hungry leech in his castle, his magic flowed from him, automatically responding to her wishes as it used to respond to his.

He couldn't stop it and she knew; her smug, poached ivory smile was the last thing to dissolve into smoke.

Author's Note: Hope you guys are liking this story so far, I've been super busy getting ready to graduate so it's taking me a while to write/edit these chapters. Let me know what you like or don't like. Ciao~


	3. Chapter 2: Detour

Rumpel's magic brought them straight to the library. His entire collection of books, give or take a few, lined the dark wooden shelves above. In his absence, the castle seemed entirely too eager to return to it's natural state of decay; each shelf was was covered in a thin film of dust that would have made Belle's heart break.

Zelena took a few exploratory steps around the room. "What a shame. All this knowledge, all these lovely books gone to waste." She pulled a red-spined book from the nearest shelf and flipped through the dusty pages a moment before letting it drop to the floor.

Rumpel crossed his arms and scowled, feeling her puppet strings fading as her focus did.

"I'm guessing that we didn't come all the way to my castle for a few dusty books."

"Clever boy." She said sarcastically. "Wait here until I need you to fetch a bone for me."

She left him in the library to wait as she went to peruse his castle. Despite how furious he was, he wasn't too worried that she might stumble on anything valuable, most of the more precious magical items were hidden in hard to reach areas of the castle. Even if she wanted something from his stash, she would require his help to open it. Besides, few items were more important than what she had already taken. For now, he would bide his time.

He hated to admit that even though Zelena's constricting grip on his magic had faded, he found the motivation to flee had abandoned him.

What was the point when he could be summoned back in an instant? All she had to do was wave the bloody dagger, and poof! He'd be right back where he started. Even he didn't know what she would do if he was too careless about his plans to escape.

It was a chess game really; of course he would make plans to escape, and he knew she expected him to. A game he most definitely was interested in winning. In order to be free, he would have to pry his dagger from Zelena's cold, and hopefully dead, clutches.

The question was: how?

He couldn't physically take it from her; her will controlled his power, and though her words defined her will, she didn't need to say anything in order for it to take effect.

He lifted a scaly hand to his mouth in contemplation. There's an idea.

If he could take away her focus, she might give him the opportunity to take back what was rightfully his. It was a flawed plan certainly, but he didn't have many options. He didn't have time to wait and see what would happen once Zelena was done gloating.

He needed to visit his potions cabinet, which was unfortunately downstairs. Though she'd said it sarcastically, she'd told him to wait here and he could feel the boundaries of his magic crowding around the library. He didn't need to walk face first into his own magic barrier to know he couldn't pass through.

"Well then," he said aloud and rubbed his hands together, "I guess I'll have to bring it here."

After some searching, he found a small space of blank wall in between two bookcases. It was a curved section of the wall, but it didn't matter; it would suit his needs. With one long, black nail, he traced a circle on the stone, which glowed eagerly on completion. The rock stretched and molded itself, forming a smooth, rounded doorknob. It didn't take long for it to fully form, and once it did, he twisted the handle and pulled. The concave section of the wall glided opened like a door, and his potions cabinet waited just inside the small closet-like room inside.

He pressed his thumb against the blood seal in the center of the ornate cabinet. The tiniest click inside noted the disarm of the paralyzing defense system. Dozens of ingredients lines the shelves. Potions, tonics, poisons… He hesitated over the gnarled root that would certainly kill the witch. It was tempting, but he didn't want her dead, not yet; when that time came, he wanted to take his time. He hand moved on to shuffle through the top, and then bottom shelf.

Foxglove... enchanted tears… nightroot…

Suddenly, he remembered. There _was_ something he could use. It wasn't something he liked to waste, considering the difficulty it took to gather, but he was more than willing to pay that price to have his freedom again.

At the very bottom of the cabinet was an unassuming box; He gently pulled it from the shelf, pulling his shawl up to cover his nose and face. Even the slightest whiff was enough to affect even him.

He selected an empty vial and opened the box, quickly scooping some of the precious, bright pinkish-purple powder inside. He stoppered it immediately and closed the lid, cutting off the faint vapour that had risen from the box and begun to fill the small closet-like space.

He replaced the box at the bottom of the cabinet. On the way out, his hand brushed against a bottle, a few drops of thin black liquid still inside. He slipped it gently into his pocket, along with the powder.

A single string of his magic twinged with warning. Quickly, he shut the cabinet doors, and then the rounded door to his secret space. He waved his hand over the doorknob, watching it shrink and flatten back into the masonry.

He walked to the empty hearth, staring down into its worn, grey stones. His hand wrapped around the two containers in his pocket. He had his chance, now he just needed to find the opportunity to use it.

He waited patiently, trying not to focus on the faded image of Belle that lingered on the edges of his vision. She used to read by this hearth, legs tucked under her, the fire's glow adding a heated blush. Whenever she thought he wasn't watching, she would curl up and leave the duster on the shelf.

Zelena appeared with a silent puff of smoke beside him, his own magic calling to the dagger tucked into her waistline. She held a large black bag bulging with objects in her hands.

Those were _his _things. He ground his teeth together, but swallowed his anger. Must be patient.

"Miss me?" She grinned.

"Like the plague." He said dryly, not even looking at her. He thumbed the stoppers of the containers in his pocket.

Her mouth twitched in an unamused smile, and she dropped the bag at his feet. Something metal inside clanked against who knows what.

"I hope you didn't get too restless waiting for me. It took me a minute to figure out how to break some of these enchantments. But once I did, I found a bunch of interesting trinkets." The other hand held his dagger, and she pressed the flat of the blade against his cheek and turned him to face her.

"This one especially."She pulled a familiar blue and white chipped cup from under her shawl.

Though his heart jump into his throat, Rumpel forced himself to appear neutral. He couldn't show her what she had. Knowing it was special and knowing it could be used to guide her to his true love were definitely two nuances he didn't want to elaborate. He looked at the cup coldly for a moment before looking back to her.

"It struck me as odd that, of all the items in your castle, this one had no magical properties, and yet…"

She twirled it haphazardly on a single finger. "It was in your vault."

"I wonder how you managed to worm your way in there." His eyes searched her face; all he saw was triumph, yet, he really did want to know how she had managed to break the seals- blood seals, no less- that guarded his vault. "Nobody should be able to get into my vault."

The dagger traced his chin, making him lift his head and expose his throat. "Well, I am your greatest pupil."

He sidestepped the pointed steel and laughed. "If you say so." Cocking his head to the side, he flicked a finger towards the cup. "Regardless, that isn't worth anything, dearie."

"To whom?" She dangled the cup on the end of her finger, right in front of his face.

"To you." He said, shrugging. "It's merely a sentimental trinket. Something I picked up in my deals and travels."

"I didn't take you for the sentimental type."

"I'm not." He said, turning away. He waited for the angry shatter of porcelain, but It didn't come.

Zelena sighed wistfully behind him. "I think I'll keep it anyway."

She was silent for a moment, and then he felt hands snaking around his waist. Zelena's left hand gripped the dagger and he felt the tip of it press into in his elbow.

Against his every desire to throw her across the room, Rumpelstiltskin froze, every single muscle in his body seizing in an protective instinct against the dagger's proximity. Or maybe it was Zelena who commanded his magic to paralyze him, just to feel his normally confident and relaxed posture tense in obedience to her whims.

He felt her lips against his ear, and his skin crawled when her hot breath tickled against his scaled neck. "You didn't get into any trouble while I was gone did you?"

"No." He said through a clenched jaw. "How could I, when I can't even leave this room?"

"How indeed," she hummed, her hands traveling onto his hips, dangerously close to the vials in his pocket. He wanted to reached down and lift her hand higher, but he was frozen in position, awkwardly holding his elbows akimbo. For a minute they stood wrapped together, her python arms constricting the magic inside him, yet only inflaming his desire for vengeance with every passing moment.

He'd kill her. _Slowly._

Finally, she let him go, her fingertips slithering back the way they came, disgustingly trailing across his body until the very last moment of contact. She turned to face the hearth. "Light this for me."

Confusion crossed his features, but then he extended his hand, covering the cold stones with a burst of magical blue flames.

She stared into the fire, her back turned to Rumpelstiltskin, holding his blade up to catch the light. "An interesting side effect of the dagger," she said, "is that everytime you use magic, I can feel it. Even the slightest effort you used to make the fire just now reverberates through the dagger. It knows, so I know."

He didn't say anything. If she could feel even that tiniest of magic, which even he didn't notice, then he was absolutely buggered. He was beginning to realize just how much he had neglected to learn about his own curse.

He had never really researched what his dagger could do in another person's capable hands because he had never allowed anyone to even know there was one. All who had heard even a whispered rumor had been systematically and ruthlessly destroyed.

If she knew, his window to act was shrinking by the second. As silent as he could be, he reached into his pocket and grabbed the first vial he touched.

"You know absolutely nothing, dearie." He growled as he pitched the vial towards her. She twisted, noticing the sudden change of his tone just as the vial shattered at her feet and on her, the ink near invisible on her black clothing.

"What?" She said as the ink's influence washed up and over her legs and arms and torso in a visible wave, trapping her magical powers within her body.

He rushed forward, hoping to take advantage of her paralysis and pry his dagger from her. He grabbed her fist, which was wrapped tightly about the hilt. The instant his hands neared the blade, a lighting-fast spike of pain traveled his arm in an instant, and he bit back a cry, recoiling as if he'd been shocked.

Could he not take it back, even when she was paralyzed and magically impotent?

"Would you look at that," he giggled, but his eyes flickered from the dagger to her, expectantly. He had bet his chance and lost. What were they to do now?

Even though Zelena remained utterly paralyzed, her mind was awake, and her will was all too ready to get him to acquiesce.

"Freeze," she growled. Rumpel felt his magic twist inside him, locking him into place like a rusted tin man.

Zelena laughed at the turmoil in his expression; his frustration was positively delicious. Rotten hands trembled above hers with desire, but he couldn't take the dagger. He looked positively _mad. _

She decided she liked that look.

Her eyes narrowed with cruel possibilities. "Oh, Rumpel. The futility of your actions is apparent, even to you."

An unnerving smile tugged at his lips. "Says the one who is trying to control the person who taught her everything she knows. You're way out of your league."

"Bring me the antidote. Now." She hissed with magic-laced words.

And he did; robotically, his body moved to the section where his hidden cabinet was stored and opened the door. The curse put pressure on his mind- _hurry, hurry_- and this time he didn't bother to search the shelves, he knew exactly what he needed for a magic cleanser. He waved his hand over the ingredients and instantly he gripped a bottle of faint blue liquid.

With a quick stir of the tinkling glass, he was back across the room in a poof of magic, tipping the bottle over her head. She relaxed as soon as the thick potion dissolved into her skin.

Her eyebrow twitched in warning, just before she slashed the dagger downwards, sending him to his knees. "I expected better from you, Rumpel. You aren't going to get another chance."

"I have more than one trick up my sleeve." he said, looking up at her, matching her furious gaze. "You may hold the dagger, but you haven't tamed me yet, dearie."

Her face twisted into a sneer. "You still think you're better than me," she said. "I'm not as naive as I once was. You cannot be trusted." She swiped the dagger to the side, and Rumpel cried out as he was thrown into a bookcase.

"You don't know what's best for you, you're blinded by your curse. I'm not going give you a choice to ruin this; you won't ever have to choose anything, _ever again_."

She slashed again. This time he hit the wall and the air was forced audibly from his lungs.

"I control the Dark One."

Zelena stormed over to where he lay, half-curled against the wall. She used her foot to roll him on his back, pressing her rigid black heel in the center of his chest.

"I am the strongest witch in all of Oz." She twisted her heel viciously as she spoke.

Rumpel grabbed her foot. "This isn't Oz, dearie." He let out a wheezy laugh, which lead into a string of coughing. "There are much darker forces than you lurking about the Enchanted Forest."

Zelena's forehead crinkled with thought, noticing the way his golden eyes glittered.

He was thinking of _her. _Cute.

"I am going to take care of that problem, and you are going to help me."

"Not willingly." He spat.

"Not willingly," she agreed. "but I think that's what makes it fun, don't you?"

He met her triumphant expression with a glare.

She placed the dagger across the vein in his throat. "Don't you think?"

"Yes." He snapped.

Sweet as sugar, she smiled. "Now that we've got that out of our system, is there anything else that I should know?"

A short hesitation elicited a terrible cramp of magic in his chest. "No," He said slowly. "Nothing."

Her furrowed brow and the increased pressure on his chest told him that wasn't the answer she wanted.

"What did you conjure in my absence? I felt the magic."

She looked at him pointedly and a tug of his magic twisted his thoughts into confusion, focusing on one word. _Answer._

"The ink," He bite his lip, face scrunching into a pained expression. The curse knew there was more, _tell her more._ His head felt as if it was in a vice. _Tell her._

" and… ingredients."

"Give them to me," She held her hand out, like a schoolteacher confiscating contraband. His hand shot into his pocket for the vial eagerly, and trembling, he dropped it into her palm.

"Good boy," she said, and lifted the vial to the light, inspecting the pink glittery power inside. She gave him a mischievous sideways glance. "I wonder what this does."

"I'd be happy to show you, dearie." Rumpel needled, his forced smile matching her tone.

"That won't be necessary." She pushed off his chest with her heel, forcing another reluctant grunt from Rumpel.

Once she had moved away, he glared as he stood and swept the dust from his breeches.

"Come along then, Dark One." she called, as if he were a child. She pointed the dagger at the forgotten bag of goods. "Bring that."

The magic pushed him forward so forcefully that he stumbled. He shot her a glare that could singe flesh, but he picked it up, just as the magic told him to.


	4. Chapter 3: Home

Zelena left a heartbeat before he did, vanishing in a miniature green tornado, summoning him a moment later. Normally, when Rumpelstiltskin transported himself by magic he would just think of the place, disappear, and then reappear wherever he wanted. But when Zelena summoned him with the dagger, the sensation was similar to being shoved into a tiny iron maiden and tossed in the washing machine.

When he appeared again, he was in front of her; she was facing the opposite way, eyes narrowed at something over his shoulder, her lips half-smiling - quite smugly- at something behind him. He could tell from the unnaturally straight edge of the tree line beyond her that they were at least near a village or farm of some sort. Sure enough, there was a path leading from the dense, spiny silhouette of the trees. The dirt trail wound to the right like a lazy river, following the flow of the land until it sloped uphill, where he assumed a house supplied the final resting point.

Her voice, unwelcome and oddly cheery, interrupted his short intake of the landscape.

"This is where you'll be staying for tonight. Go on, have a look." She pressed her lips together in an attempt to suppress her glee, like a child with a secret. She gestured for him to turn.

With supernatural grace, he took a single step backwards and lifted his hand up for shade against the rising sun.

Was that…?

His eyes took only a second to adjust; they were standing in front of a barn the colour of wet earth. It sagged under its own weight, seemingly held upright by its spider webs which sparkled in the morning dew like wrinkles in an old, leathery face. The frowning wood was complete with a straw-thatched roof, which stuck out every which way, in a tangle of frayed, sandy hair. He'd half expected another dungeon. In fact, he almost preferred it.

Rumpelstiltskin dropped the black bag on the ground, inwardly cringing at the reminding clink of fragile items inside. Stiffly, he twisted his entire upper body to face her, his arms tucked close to his body, hand splayed.

He cocked his head at her. "Is some this kind of joke?"

Would it be a good thing if she was joking? Surely she didn't intend to make him bed in a barn. Not like he was royalty, but it was just… strange. Yet, maybe it wasn't. He had known of her humble beginnings when she came to him, but he had forgotten because of the way she lavished in the magical and luxurious qualities of the dark castle.

His query was answer with a slow, sadistic grin. "Come inside," she said, using the dagger to shove him into the barn doors. "I insist."

The rusted hinges shrieked their grievances at bearing the giant oak doors after such a lengthy period of disuse. His mood added a bit more force to his touch than necessary and both doors flew open to bang against the walls as a result. Dust shook from the ceiling in a fine mist, and though the building seemed on its last legs from outside, he could tell it was sturdy in the way only the dust rattled down.

"Welcome home, Dark One." She said smugly. She opened her arms and stepped in after him, breathing in the smell of dry hay, oiled leather, and kerosene. Her eyes and teeth sparkled like demonic lights. "Cozy, isn't it?"

"Oh yes, very much." He said with no slight amount of sarcasm. He took a few steps inside, halting mid-step to stare at the instantly obvious main feature. In the very back corner of the barn, a tall metal prison loomed vacant and ominous in its idle patience.

"A cage?" He hissed, low and dark.

"It's_ your _cage, Rumpel." She said, absolutely beaming. Her smile made him sick. "Welcome home. You should see your face, it's priceless."

"Oh Zelena, there's a price for everything." He scowled and jabbed his finger at her, accentuating his words with a single pointed nail. "My price, the price of _my_ magic, is more than you can afford, dearie, and I always collect in full." He hardly realized he had started shouting.

Unfazed by his wrath, she brushed him off, waving the dagger in annoyance. A pulse of warning flared in his veins.

_Don't bite the hand that feeds_.

Worryingly, he didn't know if it was his thought, or the curse's.

"I'm not concerned with your petty deals, Rumpel. I'm looking for a much bigger payoff."

She took a few soft steps on the hay-strewn floor, closing the distance. He felt a sudden twinge of magic and found he couldn't lift his feet from the ground. She walked a circle around him, tracing the dagger over the muscles of his back and arms and stomach, stopping with the tip poised in the center of his chest, as if she was sizing up a piece of meat. He tried his level best to keep from flinching.

"And if I were _you_, I'd stop trying to make everything about yourself, because it's not about you at all. Though if you wanted, I could pay more attention to discovering what this dagger can do."

She leered at him and pressed her thumb against the point of the blade, twisting it left and right, but not breaching the pale, indented flesh of her digit.

He forced himself to smile despite the rage and confusion rolling beneath his thin veneer of composure. "Oh this isn't about me? I'm wounded. Considering all the effort you took to make me so comfortable."

He threw his arm up haphazardly, indicating the cage. "And if it's not about controlling the _Dark One_," he half-sang his title as if it was the toy he felt like, "who exactly _is_ it about? You, Zelena?"

She matched his stare with an equal ire. The dagger stopped its movement.

"Maybe, just maybe, I want to have the same chances as what my dear sister," she hissed the 's' as if it was a snake that could bite her, "had."

He could see that her knuckles, clenched around the hilt, were turning white.

"You'll never beat Regina. You'll never _be _her."

She stepped closer, following the dagger into the crook of his neck. They were inches apart, face-to-face almost. A lesser man might have been cowed, but not Rumpelstiltskin. She was dangerously quiet, and he rewarded himself a satisfied sneer at the murderous expression he'd stirred into life on her features.

"You'll always be _green_, dearie." He whispered.

"Silence." She said through clenched teeth.

A pinch of magic sealed his words in his throat, but he'd said enough. An inherent flame of vicious glee glowed in his irises. The longer he stayed in the Enchanted Forest, the more dominant his curse would become. In the non-magical realm it'd had nothing to fuel its dark purpose, but here it was thriving again in Zelena's company.

She pushed the blade into the curve of his neck until it drew painful lumps of thick, black pudding blood. The metal scalded his flesh wherever it touched, but it was nothing compared to an actual cut from the blade.

For hundreds of years he had been wounded; spears, arrows, swords, all had been painlessly endured; but the dagger was of his own curse, and sliced him open as easily as if he were made of butter. Agony. There was pain like he hadn't felt in a long time.

He gritted his teeth together. Even if he wanted to curse her or cry out, he was still unable to speak. Regardless, he decided, he wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

Just the slightest flick of the wrist… and he could be free of it, and her. But even as her expression reflected her fury, deep within the tumult of her eyes he could see the yearning for his approval.

"Once I am through there will be nothing left, not even a memory. It will be as if she had never even _been_."

Rumpelstiltskin forehead creased, a hint of her plan unraveled. So it _was_ about Regina. How petty. If that was the case, what did she want The Dark One for? A mass forgetting potion? An unwilling audience?

Something about what Zelena said set off a warning in the back of Rumpelstiltskin mind.

_As if Regina had never been…_

A time spell? No, those were impossible. Though, he'd love to see her try… and fail.

His throat was tight with her earlier command, but given no time limit, the dark curse conceded to his rational mind, and he managed to rasp out a few words.

"Sounds like… you're working on a curse… of your own."

The dark curse constricted his throat tighter for the effort, _but it was worth it_. If he stopped fighting, he would truly be hers, no longer a subdued sorcerer, but a slave.

Her nose wrinkled. He'd gotten more out of her than she'd wanted. "Get in your cage, _Rumpel_."

She pushed him away with the flat edge of his knife, adding a touch of magic to make him stumble.

_Inside. _The magic whispered. The weight of it made his legs burn with effort. He yearned to fall to his knees and crawl. Through sheer force of will and stubbornness he half-pulled himself into the cage. Once he was inside, the weight, the discomfort, vanished. His magic gradually returned to his control, and he used it to quell the excruciating throb of the cut on his neck.

Injuries were, once again, nothing to him.

"This isn't over." He croaked, squaring his shoulders just within the open door.

"Where would be the fun in that?"

The cage didn't need to be closed to keep him in, but she shut it anyway, pursing her lips at him through the latticed metal.

She waved her hand, and a serpentine cloud of smoke wound its way through the bars of the cage.

"A housewarming gift," she said as the smoke whirled and disappeared, revealing a spinning wheel in its wake.

He stared at it coldly.

"Say 'Thank you."

The reply was reflexive; although he tried to close his mouth, his efforts only funneled the words into a hiss.

"Thank you, Zelena."

"You're welcome." She smiled. "Sleep well tonight, because tomorrow is going to be a very big day."

As soon as the barn doors closed, Rumpelstiltskin slumped onto the solitary stool within the cage. 

* * *

That first night that Rumpelstiltskin spent in the cage, he heard one. It began as only the faintest wisp of willful thoughts, followed by a deep, burning curiosity.

Yet, miles and miles away, even at its earliest stage, Rumpel recognized the call of a desperate soul.

Tonight, it was a young boy hoping to avenge his father. The boy's desire was so tangible that Rumpel could taste it, like acorns and stubborn sap, blood and steel. All the tastes that he knew when he was naught but a lad himself, growing up in a war torn land. The boy's call reminded Rumpelstiltskin of the purpose and satisfaction each deal gave him; how they filled some tiny measure of the gaping hole that numbed his dark heart.

_Rumpelstiltskin._

He wanted to answer -oh what he could gain from the boy! - Yet, Zelena demanded he stay. He was only tormenting himself with the notion that he could leave. Just like in the library, he could feel his magic crowding around the barn at her will, trapping him inside.

_Stay,_ the curse whispered.

But the boy called again, stronger. _Rumpelstiltskin._

He threaded the spinning wheel with quaking fingers. Despite himself, he was partially grateful that Zelena had allowed him this small concession. Even though she probably didn't need the gold he spun, he didn't ask her what she intended to do with it. Perhaps nothing at all.

He pressed the pedal of the spinning wheel. It twirled to life, and he relaxed into the familiar creak and whirl of the wheel.

_Rumpelstiltskin._

This time the voice was quieter, fading away, leaving him with his thoughts. He found himself thinking of Bae, and Belle. Had his sacrifice been worth it? Where were they now? He wanted to search for them, but any magic he used would be known immediately by Zelena. Last thing he wanted was to find out they were alive, then be tortured until he happily chased them down himself. No, perhaps it was better not knowing.

Perhaps it was better not to think.

But however tempting it would be to give up right here, right now, he knew Bae would kill him if he didn't at least try.

Using his natural magical sense, he closed his eyes and _flexed_ as easily as breathing: maybe he could determine his location by the creatures that live around the barn.

Zelena had not underestimated him again as he'd hoped; he found he could not extend any farther than the edges of the barn without tapping into his internal magic and letting her know exactly what he was up to. He did discover, however, several mice scrabbling about in the hay.

Justified in his_ temporary_ inaction, he resumed spinning, letting his hands focus and his mind wander. He listened to those three mice scrambling about blindly for what felt like hours, but could have been minutes. Every so often he would bend down and pick up another straw, then spin, and listen.

Rumpelstiltskin passed the entire night this way, in a daze. Two more desperate souls whispered, _Rumpelstiltskin, Rumpelstiltskin;_ but even they ceased their calls in the wee hours of the morning. Perhaps their problems caught up to them and smothered them to silence. He almost wished he could smother them himself. Unable to abate their calls, they were relentless, like bugs buzzing in his ears, keeping him from sleep.

When his stomach rumbled, he thought it a good idea to stand and stretch. A sizable pile of neatly wound gold lay coiled on the floor beside him like a golden snake, glimmering where the sunlight filtered through the patchy roof. He'd hardly noticed the sun set, or the night passing in his spinning daze, but of course time meant nothing to a being like him. What were hours, minutes, days, to a being who lived for centuries? Only... for a short while in Storybrooke… Time _had _meant something.

His life there was a new beginning for him; as a new father to Bae, as a clean slate for Belle, and it had changed him more than he could have predicted. He wasn't a coward anymore. He had given up everything so Henry could be safe and Bae could be happy. He'd even enjoyed the witty comebacks from Mrs. Swan and Regina. Yet, by some sick twist of fate, he had struggle and fought to be better than the monster he used to be, only to be cruelly resurrected and returned into the hands of evil.

Rumpelstiltskin knew he was truly cursed in all senses of the word, but… he had used the curse to his advantage before. He would do it again.

Zelena held him close because she thought she was out of harm's way. Clearly, she needed many more lessons if she thought she could ever be safe again with Rumpelstiltskin as her enemy.

_I summon thee, Dark One. _

Instantly, Rumpelstiltskin stiffened as Zelena's voice rang through his mind. This incantation was a hook he didn't even think to resist, deeply seated in the tender twists of his magic. Under his crawling flesh, his magic obeyed the dagger.

_I summon thee-_

It yanked him from his cage, and before he knew it, he was standing in what appeared to be a kitchen. The warm smells of her breakfast still permeated the air as a thin smoke, and he willed his stomach not to rumble.

"-Rumpelstiltskin." Zelena finished from her seat at the table. She patted the corners of her mouth contentedly with a serviette. The dagger lay in front of her, clenched in her other hand. "Wakey, wakey."

He sighed, the sleepless night not installing any more patience within him than he'd already had. "What do you want?"

"It's time for you to earn your keep."

* * *

**AN: Next chapter we are going to be introducing new characters that aren't dead, and also perhaps a plot point or two. Also thank you to everyone who has reviewed/followed/fav'ed so far! Every tiny post and page view helps me find the focus to continue.**

**I also have to admit, I meant to submit this days ago and then completely revised the major part of this chapter. Hopefully the next one won't take as long, since it'll be more exciting!**

**(Last thing: I'm interested in completing one-shots of OUAT characters. If you comment your idea (even just a list of characters, I might bring it to life!)**


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